


spinning like a disco ball

by emkat97



Category: Ocean's 8 (2018), Ocean's Eleven Trilogy (Movies)
Genre: Aging, Birthday, F/F, Fluff, Heistwives
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-10
Updated: 2018-09-10
Packaged: 2019-07-10 14:17:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15951074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emkat97/pseuds/emkat97
Summary: Debbie Ocean is another year older.She's not sure how she feels about that.(Debbie/Lou fluff, with the whole team!)





	spinning like a disco ball

**Author's Note:**

> HI FRIENDS!! Happy early Ocean's 8 on DVD and BluRay day!!
> 
> Here's yet another piece that was originally intended for 'after' that I ultimately wrote too much for to be included in that series!! it became its own thing!! yay!!
> 
> Hope you enjoy the fluffy goodness, and as always, please please please leave comments! I love knowing how I can improve!! 
> 
> <3

It had only been after midnight for about 20 seconds before Debbie’s phone buzzed on her nightstand table.

 

She pursed her lips in an effort to keep her smile from spreading across her face, one arm behind her head on the pillow while her right hand grabbed the phone. She didn’t even have to look at the caller ID.

 

“Hello?”

 

“ _HAPPY BIRTHDAY!! Happy birthday happy birthday happy birthday I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I lov-”_

“Calm yourself. It’s late here.”

 

“ _Obviously. That’s why I’m calling now. I’m first, right?_ ”

 

“Yeah – oh, hold on.” Debbie cleared the notification that had popped up. “Daphne just texted.”

 

“ _Too bad. I’m first.”_

“Yes, baby. You’re first.”

 

Lou had been away for eight months now. This trip was longer than the post-Toussaint California trip (six months), the “I’m-thinking-about-buying-a-house-in-Bali-is-that-a-bad-idea” trip (four months), AND the trip back home (two days, round trip; Tammy’s water broke before Lou even made it to the Melbourne airport).

 

This was the longest Debbie had been away from Lou in years, not counting that pesky prison sentence.

 

It was also the first time they’d ever been apart for a birthday in the twenty years they’d known each other.

 

Debbie was more than a little disappointed. She’d experienced enough loneliness to last her a lifetime, and while she was thrilled with the idea of Lou happy and thriving on her own, Debbie missed her.

 

She missed her so much.

 

_“What are you thinking about?”_

Debbie swore she was a mind-reader.

 

“You.”

 

_“Nice.”_

“All good things.”

 

_“Well, thank God for that.”_

“How’s London?”

 

“ _Gray. Really, really gray. But other than that, it’s a dream. I don’t want to leave,_ ” Lou said with a chuckle.

 

“Please don’t say that.”

 

_“You know I’ll be back.”_

“Not soon enough.”

 

The other end of the line was silent for a moment. Debbie pulled the phone away from her ear, just to make sure they were still connected.

 

“Lou?”

 

_“I’m here, honey.”_

“Good.”

 

_“How have you been sleeping? How’s your appetite?”_

“I know how to be a _person_ , Lou.”

 

_“Do you really? McDonald's doesn’t count as real food.”_

“Oh please. You love their fries.”

 

 _“Everyone loves their fries, Deborah.”_ A pause. _“I just want to know if you’re okay.”_

“Baby, I’m _fine._ I just miss you, that’s all. It’s gonna be a long day without you.”

 

_“I know. I’m so sorry, Deb. So sorry I can’t be there. I’ll be home before you know it. What do you have planned for the day?”_

“Not much. The girls are coming over. I don’t really want to go out this year.”

 

_“And that’s not on my account, right?”_

“Nope. Not _everything_ is about you, you know.”

 

_“I’m hurt. Truly.”_

Debbie rubbed her forehead and let out a laugh; nothing too loud, nothing to distract herself from the only sound in the room, which was Lou’s voice on the line, quiet, rich, just a little bit tired.

 

“I wish you were here right now.”

 

Debbie could hear the rustling of sheets, maybe the clink of a coffee cup hitting a table.

 

 _“Oh really?_ ” Lou cleared her throat. _“What would we be doing if I were there with you right now?”_

“Don’t do this to me.”

 

_“Why not?”_

“Because you’re not here, and it’s not as fun when I can’t actually touch you.”

 

_“It’s fun for **me** when you can’t touch me.”_

“Baby.”

 

Lou huffed. _“Fine. Not now. But don’t think you’re not getting birthday sex this year. It’s tradition.”_

“If I’m being honest, that video you sent last week was good enough to last me until you get back.”

 

_“Oh, that’s a good point. I got a lot of nice angles.”_

 

“You really did. You’re incredibly sexy.”

 

_“And you’re a very lucky woman.”_

“I think about that every day, actually.”

 

_“You being lucky or me masturbating on camera?”_

Debbie pulled her knees in as she sat up against the headboard. “The former. I’m very lucky to have you.”

 

_“I know. I’m fantastic.”_

“You are.”

 

_“Happy birthday, honey, I’m superior to you in every possible way.”_

“You really are.”

 

“ _Oh, stop it, Deb.”_

“I really want to kiss you right now. Run my hands through your hair...”

 

 _“Jesus, now who’s torturing who?”_ Lou laughed ruefully. _“I miss you so much.”_

“Then come home.”

 

Lou sighed. “ _Soon. I promise.”_ She yawned. _“Very soon.”_

“Lou. What time is it?”

 

_“What?”_

“What time is it in London?”

 

_“...6:08.”_

“ _LOU_! Go back to sleep, what the hell!”

 

_“I told you I wasn’t missing midnight.”_

“Alright, well, it’s past midnight now. Sleep.”

 

_“You better go too, then. Big day tomorrow. Please don’t let them burn down my kitchen.”_

“I won’t.” Debbie slid back under the covers. “Thanks for calling.”

 

Debbie could practically hear Lou’s smile through the phone. _“Of course, love. Of course.”_

“And I wouldn’t be morally opposed to receiving a picture every now and then.”

 

Lou chortled. _“Thought you said you were okay with just the video.”_

“I’m needy.”

 

_“You’re annoying is what you are.”_

“Sure.”

 

Their words hung in the air for a few seconds.

 

_“God, I love you.”_

Debbie smiled to herself before responding. They weren’t words she liked to say a lot, but when it came to Lou she’d say them as frequently as she possibly could because she meant them every single time.

“I love you too. Always have...”

 

_“Always will.”_

“Have a good day. Get some rest.”

 

_“I will. Happy birthday, Deb.”_

Debbie laid her phone on her chest.

 

45.

 

Her mom didn’t even _make it_ to 45.

 

It was funny, really. Debbie had to laugh.

 

Aging, she realized, was a confusing and unsettling process.

 

Most of the time, she still felt like she was 25, eager, ready and willing to conquer the world. It was Tammy, always Tammy, who had to remind her to _slow down, Deb._

 

Then she’d look at Constance and Nine, who _were_ 25 and she’d just feel so damn _inadequate_ and out of touch and out of place and out of her element and _old._

So old.

 

She was happy to be alive, of course. Given that certain other Oceans weren’t as lucky.

 

Danny had been 55 when he died. She’d have to put it down in writing somewhere, that in ten years, she would go and visit him, toast her accomplishments.

 

“I’m officially older than you. In your face.”

 

45.

 

Old.

 

Just a little jaded.

 

And completely exhausted.

 

Debbie jumped as her phone vibrated.

 

_Look at her._

The white sheets were wrapped loosely around her chest, exposing sun-kissed shoulders, her birthmark barely visible, what with the way the camera flash captured her frame. Debbie loved grazing her lips over that birthmark.

 

Her hair was tousled and Debbie could see the remnants of the previous day’s eyeliner still etched over her eyelids. Well, eyelid, given that half her face was pressed into the pillow. The icy blue eye staring into the camera pierced Debbie the way it always did, and she didn’t mind one bit.

 

The caption: _use your imagination. xoxo._

Debbie smiled and turned out the light with a flick of the switch.

 

At least some things would never change.

 

*

 

“Chocolate. Definitely chocolate.”

 

“Nah fam, I swear I heard her say somethin’ ‘bout vanilla one time. She thinks it’s classy or some shit.”

 

“Why would she think vanilla is _classy_? Chocolate has decadence written all over it.”

 

“’Kay, so I _really_ don’t want to listen to you two argue all day, so maybe just do like, cupcakes or something? Or a marble cake. Half chocolate, half vanilla.”

 

“Oh, I’m – I’m sorry, Daphne, are _you_ the one who watches Food Network religiously? No, that’s _me_ , and if Chopped has taught me anything, it’s – well first of all, it’s that you never try to make homemade ice cream in thirty minutes, but mainly, it’s that you’re not supposed to try something completely out of your wheelhouse when you’re not at least kind of familiar with a recipe for it!! So that’s a no on marble!!” Amita held out the whisk like it were a sword. “Unless, of course, you’d like to take over.”

 

“Uh, harsh much? I’m mainly here for the wine.” Daphne blew a bubble with her peppermint gum. “And Debbie, of course.”

 

“Damn, Amita, relax. It’s Debbie and it’s cake. They get along well and as long as she’s eating it, I don’t think she’ll care. She’s pretty chill ‘bout that stuff.”

 

“I’m sorry, chill?” Rose looked up from the couch and removed her sleep mask from her head (why she chose to sleep on the couch instead of her own room in the loft was beyond the rest of them). “Deborah is a criminal mastermind.”

 

Daphne cocked her head to one side. “Aren’t we all?”

 

Nine shrugged and took another hit of her blunt.

 

“I still think she wants vanilla,” Constance said as she rummaged through Lou’s spice rack, eventually settling on a tiny shaker bottle and setting it on the counter. Amita stared at it.

 

“What’s that?”

 

“Cinnamon! I think it would go good. With vanilla.”

 

“Constance. This is _cumin._ Get out of my kitchen.”

 

“Sorry, _your_ kitchen?”

 

“We’re back!” Tammy came bustling into the loft, holding her grey coat tight against her small frame. “Told you it wouldn’t take that long.”

 

“You’ve been gone almost an hour.”

 

Tammy frowned. “Really? It felt a lot shorter.”

 

“No, it was an hour, Tim-Tam.” Debbie shut the door behind her, dropping an umbrella onto the floor and her keys into the little wicker basket on the coffee table by the couch. “You couldn’t decide on which rosé you wanted.”

 

“Birthday wine is special wine.”

 

“If you say so. Although, it would have been nice if you’d made your choices just a little bit quicker, considering the torrential downpour going on right now.”

 

“I’m sorry, you _did_ actually get the wine though, correct? Because what else am I doing here if you didn’t?”

 

Debbie blinked at her, and Daphne turned a bright shade of pink.

 

“Sorry. Happy birthday, Deb,” she mumbled.

 

“Thanks.”

 

“And to answer your question, Daphne,” Tammy started, a sly smile on her face, fluffing her hair a little bit, “of _course_ we got the wine.” She opened her coat to reveal a plethora of alcohol. The girls gasped in delight.

 

“The rest is in this bag.” Debbie nodded towards the brown paper bag at her feet.

 

“You actually pay for those?” Nine raised her eyebrows.

 

“Of course not. I’m just not as dramatic as her.”

 

“ _Hey._ ” Tammy pointed her finger in Debbie’s direction. “Don’t make fun of me. You got me in the liquor store. This was your present. A ‘thank you’ would be nice.”

 

“ _Thank you_ , my dear, beautiful, wise, all-knowing Tamara, whatever would I do without you?”

 

Tammy narrowed her eyes. “You’re so unnecessarily mean.”

 

“It’s my birthday, I’m allowed to be mean.”

 

Constance hurried around the couch so she could stand at Debbie’s side as Debbie leaned against the couch. “So are we getting pizza? Or...”

 

Debbie reached into her bag and pulled out a bottle of Smirnoff. “Fine by me.”

 

The girls looked around at one another, no one daring to say a word.

 

“What?”

 

“Deb, we’re not telling you how to throw your own party, but...” Amita started.

 

“Are you _sure_ you don’t want to go out? Like, at all?” Daphne sat up a little straighter. “I could have a yacht chartered in half an hour.”

 

“And I don’t think this cake is getting made any time soon...” Constance murmured, which elicited a “HEY!” from Amita.

 

Debbie shook her head. “Thank you, but I promise you I am perfectly fine with this. No presents, no surprises. I just want to relax, for once.”

 

“But you _love_ presents! See, I got you this!” Constance whipped out a silver watch from her back pocket. “It was free!”

 

“Well, that was very – wait, is this the one Lou got me three months ago?”

 

“.....maybe.”

 

“...thanks?”

 

“I got you, mom.” Constance wrapped her arms around Debbie’s waist and squeezed as Debbie gave her a half-hearted pat on the shoulder.

 

“Oh. So _that’s_ what this is about,” Tammy said as she moved Rose’s legs to one side and settled into her usual space on the couch.

 

“What is what about?”

 

“You miss Lou.”

 

Debbie rolled her eyes. “No. I mean, _yes,_ of course I miss her, but this isn’t about her. And besides, I’m not just an extension of my girlfriend.”

 

Daphne perked up a little and leaned forward. “Ooh, trouble in paradise?”

 

“No!! Can we please come off it? Where do we want the pizza from?”

 

Nine lifted one finger in the air. “Antoon’s.”

 

“No way, dude. Sorrento’s all the way.”

 

“Constance, you crazy. Antoon’s.”

 

“Sorrento’s.”

 

“Antoon’s!”

 

“Sorrento’s!”

 

“Oh for the LOVE OF GOD! It’s _my_ birthday, so we’re going to do what _I_ want. And Romano’s is _clearly_ the superior pizza.”

 

Daphne mumbled something under her breath about how “isn’t that what we always do?” but Tammy shut her up with a quick elbow to the ribs.

 

“Fine. Then I give up on this _stupid cake!”_ Amita threw the whisk into the sink and dropped onto the floor by Nine’s feet in a huff.

 

“You wouldn’t have had to give up on the cake if we’d just done vanilla in the _first place_ – ”

 

“Constance, I am actually going to kill you.”

 

“Can we please stop yelling?! It’s just a stupid cake! What the hell is wrong with all of you?”

 

They all turned to look at Debbie before Constance raised her hand.

 

“Imma be real with you? I think we like, feed off your energy most of the time, and you’re giving us _major_ negative vibes right now, so...yeah.”

 

Debbie pinched the bridge of her nose. “Okay. Fine. I’m going to order the pizza. Everyone pick a bottle. Nine, pick a movie.”

 

“Hey, why does she get to pick the movie? I’m the actor! This is exactly the kind of situation where my opinion should be prioritized!”

 

“Because she has good taste.”

 

“ _Hey!”_

Debbie shut the bathroom door behind her and fought the urge to slide down it like she was in one of Amita’s favorite romantic comedies.

 

They fought like children, acted like children.

 

They _were_ children.

 

And here she was, the ever-present, ever-doting, constantly exasperated mother.

 

She was starting to understand why Tammy was so on edge all the time.

 

45.

 

Old.

 

Old, old, old.

 

Smoothing down her blouse, Debbie leaned against the bathroom sink and stared into the mirror, running her hands all over her upper body.

 

There was something about the lines around the corners of her mouth, and the lines on her forehead, and the way her breasts hung just a little lower than she remembered, that made her hate this day even more than she had just a few hours prior.

 

She hadn’t gotten up until noon, only leaving her bed to let Tammy into the loft. They’d had a nice brunch, talked about love and life and family, and Debbie would have been perfectly content to leave it at that. But the girls insisted on coming over, and who was she to put a damper on the good intentions of five of her closest friends?

 

They had all arrived around 6:30 and Debbie and Tammy headed to the liquor store shortly after everyone got settled. Tammy had offered to fix the loft up in the earlier hours the two were left alone, but Debbie declined.

 

“Lou will kill you if you move anything.”

 

“Well, Lou’s not here right now.”

 

“Then I suppose I’ll have to kill you for her. Especially if you let Constance come in here with one of those inane ‘Happy Birthday’ banners.”

 

“You okay, Deb?”

 

Debbie glanced downward, still clad in her robe at 3 in the afternoon.

 

“Just peachy, Tim-Tam.”

 

“You wanna talk about it?”

 

Debbie shrugged. “Maybe later.”

 

They hadn’t talked about it.

 

As Debbie tried to ignore just how weary she felt, she noticed that the noise coming from the living room had significantly reduced over the past few minutes.

 

There was nothing more suspicious than a quiet Daphne Kluger.

 

Opening the door ever so slightly, Debbie peeked her head out and saw her crew huddled around Rose, who was pacing the floor in a tight circle.

 

“...now, then maybe you’ll get a refund, that’s all I’m saying.” Amita blinked furiously.

 

“I paid in cash!”

 

“You paid in _cash_?” Tammy’s eyes widened.

 

“Yes! Isn’t that...isn’t that what you’re supposed to do at a place like that? Give cash?”

 

“Oh my God, Rose...”

 

“I’m sorry, I wouldn’t have done it if I’d have known she didn’t want presents!”

 

“I mean...” Daphne twirled a lock of hair around her finger. “Maybe she’ll make an exception? It’s kind of a present for all of us, if you think about it.”

 

Nine sat back in her chair. “If she didn’t want to go out, I doubt she’ll be down for a house call.”

 

“Okay, _what_ are you talking about?” Debbie tried to keep it together as she stormed out of the bathroom, but the sound of her heels on the hardwood floor sounded anything but casual. “And don’t lie to me.”

 

“Hello...Deborah...sweet, beautiful Deborah,” Rose stood frozen in place, wide-eyed, literally twiddling her thumbs. “How are you? How’s the day been so far? I’m personally having a wonderful time myself, in the loft, today. Your birthday. That is today.”

 

“Rose, it’s okay. Just tell her.”

 

“Tell me _what_?” At this point, Debbie just wanted to crawl back into bed.

 

Rose took a deep breath. “There’s a lovely little spot on West 47th, have you ever been?”

 

“You’re going to have to be more specific, Rose.”

 

“It’s called Hunk-O-Rama.”

 

Debbie raised her eyebrows. “The strip club?”

 

Rose nodded emphatically. “Yes, well, I figured it would be a jolly way to end the night if we had just a few gentleman callers over for a little performance.”

 

“You arranged for _strippers_ to come over?”

 

“I’m just as surprised as you are,” whispered Constance.

 

“I didn’t know we weren’t supposed to give you gifts! She got you an entirely new sound system!” Rose pointed at Nine-Ball in an attempt to get Debbie’s attention on someone else.

 

“I’ll set it up for you for Hanukkah, not a big deal. Continue.” Nine waved Rose’s comment off, clicking her nails against her keyboard.

 

“I thought it might be fun! Don’t hate me,” Rose was practically whimpering.

 

Debbie sighed. “I don’t hate you. I’m just...well, I’m honestly stunned that you were the one to set it up, plus I’m not exactly sold on the idea of a bunch of strange men traipsing around Lou’s place while she’s not here.”

 

Amita turned Debbie around so they were facing each other, and clasped their hands together. “Deb. Please. I am begging you. Please let the strippers come. I need this.”

 

For once, when Debbie glanced around the room, everyone’s expression was different. What kind of situation was she diffusing?

 

“..........okay.”

 

Amita and Daphne cheered, while Rose collapsed back onto the couch, looking like she was ready to pass out.

 

“Just...make sure they don’t use too much glitter.”

 

“No promises!” Daphne squealed.

 

“What time are they supposed to come? The pizza should be here soon.”

 

“Around 9, love.”

 

“Okay. So we’ve got some time.” Debbie settled into her favorite chair. “What are we watching, Nine?”

 

_“Inside Out.”_

Constance pumped her fist with an enthused “YES!” while Tammy practically fell on her knees as she moaned “NO!”

 

Debbie leaned over to Amita. “What is this movie?”

 

Amita threw her the box of tissues. “Get ready, Deb. Arm yourself.”

 

An hour later, about halfway through the film, after everyone had already cried at least twice, even Debbie – there was a knock at the door.

 

Daphne was up like a lightning bolt, flipping her hair and pushing up her boobs before sauntering over to the door and flipping the lock.

 

“Hey, sexy – holy _shit._ ”

 

As the rest of the crew craned their necks to see how many men were at the door, Daphne turned around, a gigantic grin on her face and said “Holy shit!” one more time, a slight lilt in her voice.

 

And with that, Debbie was on her feet.

 

Because it wasn’t a stripper.

 

Unless, of course, the employees of Hunk-O-Rama sported head to toe leather and soaked blonde hair, and towed around a purple suitcase.

 

Lou tilted her head. “Do I have something on my face?”

 

“Lou.” Debbie’s voice was barely above a whisper.

 

Lou smiled. “Surprise.”

 

Debbie was across the living room in ten steps, pulling Lou into the loft and kissing her with everything she had.

 

Debbie settled her hands on Lou’s cheeks before the rest of the crew stood up to give her hugs.

 

“Did any of you know about this?”

 

Constance’s hand shot up.

 

Lou raised an eyebrow. “Really?”

 

“Nah, but I figured you’d do some corny shit like this.”

 

“Oh, hush,” Lou rolled her eyes, turning her gaze back to Debbie. “Took everything in me not to tell you last night.”

 

“I can’t believe you’re here.” Debbie shook her head, before lifting her hand. “Wait. Did you change your hair?”

 

“Oh, yeah. Knew I forgot to tell you something.”

 

“No fringe?”

 

“No fringe.” Lou shrugged. “Trying something new.”

 

“And was that _your_ idea, or...”

 

“No, it was my fiancé’s, actually. Met her on the plane. She’s gorgeous, you’d love her. We’re getting married so she can get her green card.”

 

“You’re Australian, that doesn’t make any sense.”

 

“ _You_ don’t make any sense.”

 

Daphne’s voice rose above the din. “Jesus Christ, get a room!”

 

“If you insist!” Debbie chirped, taking Lou by the hand and yanking her towards their bedroom.

 

Once the door was closed, Debbie pressed her mouth to Lou’s neck before quickly pulling away. “Lou, you’re shivering.”

 

“Yeah, it’s still storming. The hotel was only a few blocks away, I figured I’d be able to walk.”

 

“You’re an idiot.”

 

“I’m _your_ idiot,” Lou corrected.

 

“ _My_ idiot. Still. Get out of these clothes. Take a shower.”

 

“Hmm, wanna join?”

 

Debbie rolled her eyes, but followed her into the bathroom just the same, hoping Lou hadn’t seen the four shirtless men come in unannounced.

 

As her fingers undid the buttons on Debbie’s jeans, Lou smirked. “Told you you’d get that birthday sex one way or another.”

 

A whoop of laughter came from the living room as the trashy pop music started to play.

 

“Deb...Deb are there strippers in my house?”

 

“Don’t worry about it.” Debbie pulled her under the water. “You put on a much better show.”

 

*

 

“I think we’ve got enough candles, honey. This place is starting to look like a fire hazard.”

 

The strippers had only been there for about twenty minutes before the storm had proven too powerful for whatever power grid Lou had in place, and no matter what Nine tried to do, it was clear that the power wasn’t going to come back on any time soon.

 

“You’re welcome to stay, of course,” Debbie said, tapping her foot, ignoring the stares as she kept one hand tight on the towel wrapped around her body. She glanced back at Lou, who was desperately trying to get the remnants of shampoo out of her hair by drowning herself under the kitchen sink.

 

“Me too?”

 

“No, Channing, go home!”

 

The man hung his head before slowly making his way to the edge of the loft, Amita following close behind with a “Wait for me!”

 

“Huh.” Daphne crossed her legs upon hearing the slam of the door. “I didn’t take Channing Tatum for a method actor, but I guess you learn something new every day.”

 

“As I was _saying_ ,” Debbie started again, “your rooms are open if you want them, but who knows how long we’ll be stuck in the dark.”

 

Tammy rose to her feet. “I’ll call an Uber. A night like tonight, I’m sure I can find an XL somewhere.”

 

Constance giggled. “Heh. Magic Mike puns.”

 

As the remaining five women left for the night, Debbie and Lou slid into their pajamas and Debbie began lighting all the candles she could find while Lou collected a few flashlights. When all was said and done, they positioned themselves on the couch.

 

“You know, this actually isn’t bad lighting,” Lou remarked, running a hand through damp blonde locks. “Very romantic.”

 

“Mm.” Debbie sipped her iced tea. “We should really just go to sleep.”

 

“Oh, you say that _now_? After you’ve lit all these candles? Nope. I’m not dying in an inferno, thank you very much.”

 

“It’d be fitting. Considering we’re both going straight to hell.”

 

“The devil’s gonna take one look at you, honey, and just give you the throne.” Lou grinned at her.

 

Debbie shook her head in response.

 

“So,” Lou shifted so she could pull Debbie’s feet into her lap. “Good birthday?”

 

“It was a birthday.”

 

Lou crinkled her eyebrows. “What do you mean?”

 

Debbie rested her head on the side of the couch. “I’m old.”

 

“You’re not old.”

 

“I’m _old._ ”

 

“Well, if you’re old, then you’re the most beautiful old woman I’ve ever seen.”

 

“Stop it.”

 

“It’s true.”

 

Debbie pulled her legs away. “Every time I look in the mirror, I’m reminded of my own mortality. There. I said it.”

 

“Jesus, Deb.”

 

“I just don’t understand how this could _happen_. Why do I _feel_ so young but _look_ like _this_? Maybe it was jail. All the lost years, or some bullshit like that. I don’t know.”

 

“ _Stop it_. Look,” Lou scooted over so she could drape one arm around Debbie’s shoulders. “You wanna know why I changed my hair?”

 

“Oh, so there’s no secret airplane fiancé?”

 

“No. Not yet, at least,” Lou smirked, before sighing. “I found a grey hair the other day.”

 

_“You didn’t.”_

 

“I did. And another. And another. And I _cried_ about it, Deb. Just sat on the bathroom floor, crying. So I decided to switch it up. I know what it feels like, honey. But it doesn’t change the fact that you still look like you’re 30.”

 

“You have to say that. You love me.”

 

“I do love you. You think I don’t love you enough to tell you when you look like shit? Please. Shall I pull out the photo albums?”

 

“Oh, I do _not_ need to be reminded of some of those pictures tonight.”

 

“Didn’t think so.” Lou gave Debbie a soft kiss. “You’re stunning, Deb. Brilliant and bright and so, so beautiful. Don’t ever think otherwise. And besides, Rose is older than you.”

 

“Shit, I keep forgetting. I’ve always just thought of her as a lamb who got separated from the herd when it was born.” That got a laugh out of Lou, who proceeded to leave tiny kisses on Debbie’s collarbone.

 

“Why are you so nice to me?” Debbie muttered, burying her face in Lou’s neck.

 

“Good question. Not sure.”

 

“London was good, then?”

 

“It was.” Lou ran one finger up and down the length of Debbie’s arm before lowering her voice. “I’m going back, you know. Just here for the night.”

 

“What?”

 

“I want you to come with me this time.”

 

“Lou, hey – ”

 

“That’s your present, actually.” Lou reached into her open bag behind the couch and pulled out a few pairs of tickets. “Paris. Switzerland. And Italy. Pack a bag.”

 

“Slow down.” Debbie examined the tickets. “These are legit?”

 

“I want to see the world. You’re the only one I’d ever want to see it with.”

 

“You’re ridiculous.”

 

“I’m about to get even worse.” Lou knelt down by the coffee table and scrolled through her phone. Pressing a button, Sam Cooke began to play at full volume. Lou stood in front of Debbie and offered her a hand.

 

“May I have this dance?”

 

Moving to the middle of the floor, Debbie settled her arms around Lou’s shoulders as Lou brushed a stray piece of hair from out of her eyes and they began to sway.

 

_If you ever change your mind_

_About leaving, leaving me behind_

_Oh, bring it to me_

_Bring your sweet loving_

_Bring it on home to me_

 

“Thanks for coming back.”

 

“Wouldn’t have missed it for the world.”

 

Lou felt Debbie’s arms tense up, the way they always did when she was being completely sincere. “I mean it. Thank you. I love you, Lou. You’re everything to me.”

 

“You’re pretty high on my list, too.” Lou bit her lip before pressing a kiss to Debbie’s forehead. “Love you forever.”

 

The song kept playing.

 

“I think we should do Italy first.”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“You know why?”

 

“Enlighten me, Deborah.”

 

Debbie cleared her throat. “I would like to steal the Leaning Tower of Pisa.”

 

Lou rolled her eyes. “I’d love to hear how you plan on pulling that one off.”

 

“You’ll be with me, though?”

 

“Maybe.”

 

“Lou.”

 

“Every step of the way.”

 

Debbie grinned.

 

45.

 

Old.

 

Jaded.

 

Exhausted.

 

But happy.

 

So very happy.

**Author's Note:**

> like? no like? too fluffy? not fluffy enough?? please, gimme gimme gimme your thoughts!
> 
> if you leave a comment, i'll send you one (1) hug, completely free of charge.
> 
> love you guys!! <3


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